


Treatment Options

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Sulking, dramatic bitches, hurt/comfort?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21521218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Verstael is certainly very different to Aera but, sometimes, he sounds like her.
Relationships: Verstael Besithia/Ardyn Izunia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	Treatment Options

Verstael Besithia has a wide range of skills he’s honed to a dangerous level of precision. Ardyn wouldn’t bet against Verstael in almost any scientific endeavor, Verstael can shoot the balls of a gnat but perhaps most dangerously Verstael calls things exactly how he sees them. Verstael is a convincing liar, don’t be mistaken, and they can run elaborate schemes across the kingdom with sometime startling sincerity but in private? When it’s just the two of them? Verstael tells Ardyn exactly what he thinks. The brazenness is refreshing but it can become something of a double-edged sword because Verstael has never been afraid of Ardyn and he doesn’t seem set to change now.

Ardyn has changed a great deal from the man he was but he will always be perhaps too thoughtful for his own good. Sometimes, despite his best intentions, he falls victim to the chatter in his overcrowded mind. Little things set him off some days, seemingly without warning; a bouquet of sylleblossoms, an old turn of phrase, a particular shade of black… Then, before you know it, he’s in a spiral and all his vengeance seems too far off to bother.

Verstael is very adept at snapping him out of it.

Usually.

This week it was sylleblossoms, sent by the current Oracle no less, and Ardyn’s been a wreck ever since he fell into the pit of his own memories. A wedding he never had, children he’ll never have, a whole life stolen and spoilt…

Ardyn found the denizens of Gralea irritated him too much to bare so after two days he dragged his sorry ass back to Verstael’s artic laboratory. Verstael seemed to catch on instantly and while Ardyn wants to be close to his only grounding force he doesn’t want to talk about his frazzled thoughts. So he hangs around the laboratory like a bad smell.

Five days into his brooding he is sunk into a chair before that god-awful tapestry in Verstael’s archives. It depicts the Oracle, the daemons, the Founder King. He hates it but he feels some horrible attachment to it. He feels personally affronted by it, robbed, possessed by some notion that it should be him in the depiction. Unable to travel back in time, unable to do anything presently, he sits under it and drinks.

Verstael however has evidently gotten tired of his shit.

Verstael stalks into the archives sizzling with intention. He’s in his more casual attire; button down shirt, slacks, lab coat, sleeves rolled up, some freckles peaking out…

In one sharp motion Verstael yanks the bottle out of his hands and straddles his lap. Settling down like it’s a position of innate power Verstael tips the bottle back and swallows the remaining quarter without ceremony. Ardyn’s sure it’s meant to spite him, a petty retaliation, and exhaling Verstael drops the bottle on the floor a moment later. His hands grasp either side of the backing by Ardyn’s skull.

“There,” he announces, “you’re done. Now, if the sulking is concluded, are we going to talk or not?”

The glare Ardyn shoots him is scathing in that moment.

Verstael is unwavering.

“ _Well?_ ” The blonde presses.

“I’m not in the mood.” Ardyn warns, foul and irritable.

“Fine,” Verstael decides, “if you don’t want to talk you can listen.”

Ardyn scoffs.

He likes Verstael, very much. Verstael is his person. The one magnetic force that keeps him anchored on Eos. Without the blonde to yank him to-and-fro he’d go rightly off the rails. That said Ardyn means it right now. He is _not_ in the mood. How dare some mortal, some little waif, talk like he has him all figured? Ardyn is two thousand years old and he doesn’t have it untangled. How is Verstael supposed to have all the secrets.

“What’s done is done. You can’t change that.” Verstael reminds him. “But if you sulk away the next thousand years you’ll lose your chance to set it right. We can do this. We can win. But you have to help me and you’re no good to me in a miserable heap.”

Ardyn huffs through his nostrils, sagging slightly in his seat. He slumps his head back, angry and frustrated, because technically the little brat is right. He’s always right. It’s infuriating.

“You can’t imagine all that’s been stolen from me,” Arydn hisses lowly.

“No, I can’t.” Verstael concedes. “But luckily for you I’m an expert idiot wrangler so here’s your prescription—”

“Ha! _You think_ —“ Ardyn riles up, starting to seethe.

“Shut up,” Verstael snaps back, unflinching as Ardyn surges under him. “Your treatment is twofold. First, you do need to rest, to grieve, because frankly that’s healthy even if you insist on being so _dramatic_ about it.”

“Oh?” Ardyn laughs. “And the other?”

“Is me.” Verstael replies. “Because evidently no one else has the authority to tell you’re being ridiculous.”

Ardyn pauses.

In an instant the floor is ripped out from under him.

There’s a flash, a hard, _painful_ , memory, and suddenly he’s very young again.

His anger evaporates. It was never comprised of much to begin with. And in the interim while he waits for his spinning head to catch up with his lurching heart he stares stupidly at Verstael.

Verstael hesitates in the face of his reaction.

Ardyn supposes he must’ve gone pale, dumbstruck, but then Verstael can’t be expected to understand what he’s done. Obviously this wasn’t the reaction the blonde was expecting.

Still…

Well, Verstael’s certainly nothing like Aera but…

Ardyn laughs, broken and soft, and Verstael frowns gently.

Ardyn shifts pulling the other man into his arms. Verstael softens from oppositional to small and tucks up in his arms willingly. Ardyn clutches him close. A lifeline in a sea of chaos and misery.

Verstael is no Aera, of course not, but if anyone loves him just as much, warts and all, well…

“Ardyn…?” Verstael murmurs, testing the waters.

“I don’t believe in the gods anymore,” Ardyn sighs, exhausted, “but something is looking out for me because it made you and brought us together. I apologize if I’m not always as grateful as I should be for that.”

Verstael chews on the words for moment, what is he supposed to say to that?

“Better?” Verstael supposes, stroking the line of his jaw delicately from where he’s curled tucked up against him.

“Much,” Ardyn decides. He’s lost a lot of things but he’s not alone. Not yet. There’s still plenty left to fight for. “That said…” He chuckles lightly, “perhaps we should follow doctor’s orders, just to be safe, don’t you think?”

“Well…” Verstael snorts, “just to avoid a relapse.”


End file.
